


Rest.In.Pisces.

by IreFizzy



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Dubious Consent, Guilt, M/M, Necrophilia - Bones, One-sided Sagicorn, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24184762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreFizzy/pseuds/IreFizzy
Summary: "Why he would desire this? Something he wanted cannot be destroyed - it is always with him forever. "In a night, he desired a special kind of play to deal with his boner, he wasted no time to indulge. The beauty, he felt the concept deeply within him, the body, he took pleasure against his mundane days, the thoughts, of a that certain person who saw it all.
Relationships: Aquarius Camus & Capricorn Shura, Aquarius Camus/Pisces Aphrodite
Kudos: 6





	Rest.In.Pisces.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back from my hiatus though my laziness still persist.
> 
> Why this piece I wrote? From two things; a joke about boner and a song included fish bones. My imagination combined the two together. This is a dark fic which is merely to explore this fantasy of the fictional realm. 
> 
> A special thank you to @card4IV on Twitter for discussing this particular idea with me and I appreciate their support and their art. They are simply amazing. A lovely mention to cielosilencioso on A03 for making memes for this fanfic, they would be on my Twitter account soon and their fics on their ships are excellent, go check them out.
> 
> All for fun, nobody gets hurt. No bones were molested in the making of this piece of entertainment.

It was a beautiful day and Camus gave no care in the world. To nature, to society, to his "friend" who seemed to cry in the corner for his attention. He was writing a paper with inquisitive phrases and compelling points to make every critic to send their respects and act upon his words. To have people to follow him because of his ideals attracted them, made his chest swell in a strange fervour. Then he got frisky and got a boner, at the end he needed a new table and a rewrite of the same paper.

At night where Aioros laughed at a catfight scene in a telenovela on TV and Shura had not yet gained an immunity against the absurdity of the dramatics and held the what the hell look and struggled to cope in general; Camus sneaked around in his black cape he stole from Aioros. From Capricorn Temple, how odd it was, Camus mused before rolling his eyes towards his destination. In the dark with little light, he stopped by to smell the lonely flower and threw it away. He paused again at a spot; he got a shovel to spread the dirt like a sandstorm.

Why he would desire this? Something he wanted cannot be destroyed - it is always with him forever. That loyalty was best seen by a man's best friend, its infamous object engrossed him. White like a moon, hard like steel yet heavy to carry.

Now among the wet mud, something glowed in front of Camus. He found it. He will fix the grave later. Left abandoned by that selfish soul without any love, Camus figured that he is not going to use them anyway since he spends too much time saving his donkey ass "friend" from Minos or Thanatos.

He took them away back to his temple in front of his new table. So beguiling, his lips recited praises and moist to make a small smile. He feels too warm. To peel his clothes to reveal his hard gift he worked for many fruitful years, it was time the swirling liquid inside of him to be released inside the bones.

Assembling the former man before he had died, at least he did not pout of his dirtied roses he could of saw along the way. A sloppy kiss on the skull before Camus placed a rose crown he made on the forehead.

A sheet of blank paper was written again, feelings, feelings, Shura knows everything, how could he accurately depict the right person by his sight, a question of him digging was out of the question, clinging to his inherited morals from the religion not supposed to be believed, depends on his dignity to save him, oh it will kill him one day! However he got some smarts not to say anything, perhaps in a fear of having the same fate which is ludicrous because he would be a fossil that get washed daily by waves for one hundred years before making old people yawn in a unknown museum. It was all Shura's fault, Camus mused whilst dropping his ink-dried pen to the trashbin, if he didn't obey the madman's order like a little shoe-licker he is, his development of someone being sensible or be open of his likes won't be shattered like every child's forsaken dreams. His unrequited love to that Centaur was many of his punishments of being undeserving, in his own words.

Oh Aioros. Aioros was such a role model that could have shamed his textbook examples yet to be killed in cold blood is what most saints learned to do this. Even the passionate and noble had to do his duty on Andromeda Island.

For the others he does not acknowledged them in his thoughts, only Shura knows this. He remembered that night too well...

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

Shura saw him one of those amorous nights and the goat's weak face, Camus could not forget it. Remorse and disgust exploded in the Capricorn's eyes, making them shake side to side, his body struggled to stand felt like a teetering seesaw that would spin erratically in a hurricane. During his episode of gathering his thoughts, even his hands mimic a grabbing motion around his head, his eyes began to focus an image of Camus slipping his tongue in his "friend's" mouth whilst caress his pelvis with his piano-playing fingers. When Camus glanced to Shura with a sharp smirk that stretched out by vanity, dropped with no time by the goat's narrowed eyes of shame, not at himself this time, as a spear to Camus instead. Temperature lowered for goose bumps to appear but a stare of authority versus indifference broken by an arm. A bony arm and its hand reckoned Capricorn to move forward to his skull where his rose crown was the only colour of his face. His bones had a brilliant moonshine glow, he looked very beautiful, his beauty reflected to Shura's deep regrets due to his silence, a distant loss because of that wintry man.

"Please come back my friend, witness me for giving this monster a painful death and put a rose, use those petals to slice his heart into pieces. Heartbroken, no... thank you for finding his source of blood among the chilly flesh."

Shura punched Camus couple of times to knock him over the stone table. Bruises later appeared blues and purples on his pale face. For Shura, he did not feel any pain as he was frozen to the wall except for _his rosy head_ that began to burn in anger. _The sullen wind_ woke the window wide open and screams Camus to stop, all his wishes this time were not heard. How could _passion prevail here,_ the unnatural weather _of wind and rain_ in July's evening, a light smoke encircled them, a purple aura all he could see, when Shura focused on Camus, he saw his stained blue eyes where all the honour of the warrior is gone. All is left is a siren who moved with smoothness that made the skeleton shaken in pleasure...the goat knew this was grotesque. 

He never saw Camus shudder before from his release, and he wished he never saw it, or the bony arm grasped his violator’s hair and wrapped it around his hand three times before pulling Camus down to his side. He let Camus go and Camus got off the table. Shura could only opened his eyes wide as Camus climbed on an ice coffin around his body and captured his lips in a long, slow French kiss. 

If Shura was not trapped by the thick ice, Camus should be dead. Yet he saw a blue cosmos around the bones, and he swore to his heart that he saw a faint Aphrodite smirked at him, all sly, as if he enjoyed this torture. Capricorn could not indulge in his recent pang of betrayal as now he bit Camus' lower lip in a provocative manner. Perhaps it was his body gave up or he was challenging Camus that he was not passive, he gave his all in this kiss. He wanted more of that warm cosmos. So cold, cold. He closed his eyes to feel more of it in his stomach. It was only logical in a situation like this.

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

...A book was hit on Camus’ face; a naughty cosmos demanded his attention. All this time he was staring at the spot where he trapped Shura that night. That kiss made the goat as a sleeping beauty and in the next morning told the Libra Saint to free him and put him to bed in the Capricorn Temple.

Even now, nothing had changed. Shura is still a little lamb in his circle of guilt and like before he never intended to get out of it. Too occupied in his business to cause fall of others, being around Aioros waited for receive his revenge, a slow and painful death wish would make DeathMask glee. For him to be happy again was a distant journey he refused to see time and time again. _Oh Shura, suffer more from your blind hatred of yourself, get out of it for something will turn upside down in your miserable life._ Perfect he muttered before his attention turned back to his skeleton.

He climbed over to level his hips with his, if only he kept his light blue curls as a wig. Together with Camus' dark aquamarine hair, it would have made a beautiful ombre of waves during all kisses, cool and gentle, the skull had a magnificent moonstone sheen, so did another bones thanks to Camus' crafty hands covered with cosmos.

He needed to scratch his inch that became bothersome to ignore. But it was alright as he began to grind, and all those bones helped with his boner. Entering nothingness, a chilly air increased his hardness. A one-sided waltz where the lead had surprised himself with a shake of his body as he had released all over the pelvis and his temple felt little warmer than usual. The skeleton had held Camus in his bony arms.

Shura knew what had occurred in the Aquarius Temple and retired to bed, thinking what happened to his lost friend and his violation. To say something to anyone is asking another war within this fragile sanctuary where civilisation and ideals of peace and justice will be destroyed. Before he left for stairs and told Aioros he got a headache, a laugh escaped from him, "We are all hypocrites to our rotten core. Goddess is very forgiving, so scared of our abilities when things went terribly wrong. Why are we doing here?"

Aioros heard everything. Perhaps it was a warmer cosmos from Camus' temple, that is the only thing he detect a change which Shura did not like. Sensed that Shura needed his space, Aioros watched him going up and headed for the Aquarius Temple to see what was up.

Camus was in his black cloak, strolling with the bones in his arms, flexing his muscles. Full moon let out a glow to make the bones white again. At the grave, again, he bid adieu. He was once told that a mud bath can really rejuvenate his body to give a glowing appearance as well giving quite of a relaxing experience. To preserve that beauty, Camus agreed because of science but then again, science happens everywhere, but by his field of knowledge, he believes it, in this case it was beauty. Beauty was strange to him yet alluded him further though he knew that he would not get an answer at the end.

O sweet beauty, surely is satisfying when no one knows the end of love.

Farewell, Aphrodite.

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by gothic novels I been recently reading and the italic phrases from the flashback are from Porphyria's Lover which is excellent, dramatic poem if you interested reading it further.
> 
> Poor Shura though, he is not having a good time here. Rip.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated and it earns a smile on my face and I'm on Twitter, @PoisonDaimon, this is my 18+ and more Saint-Seiya account.


End file.
